


A Discourse On Marriage

by OllyJay



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, MFMM Year of Tropes, Unexpected marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-15 00:06:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13019082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OllyJay/pseuds/OllyJay
Summary: The Discourse of Marriage and WivingAlexander Niccholes (1620)Chap IIII - How to choose a good wife from a bad.'...because it is such a sea, wherein too many shipwreck upon on a rock for want of better knowledge and advice..."





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> '...for love looks sometimes with the eye of the body, as with the mind, and beauty in some begets affection...'  
> 

“This is nice.” Jack picked up the yellow silk material, letting it run through his fingers like water to fall gracefully back onto the bed. “What is it?”

“It’s part of my costume,” she called out from behind the chinese screen.

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Wandering over to the screen, he peeked around the edge - she was wearing a corset that pushed her bosom up in a very alluring manner. Around her neck there was a large emerald and her skirt was an assortment of material underneath which her bare feet were just visible with chains of dainty silver bells encircling each ankle. He started to look around. “Where is it, Esmeralda?”

“Where’s what?” she asked, confused.

“The goat,” he said, before a look of horror came across his face. “Please tell me you’re not expecting me to go as the goat.”

She laughed. “I wasn’t, but it is a great idea - I wish I’d thought of it.” She slipped a peasant blouse over her head. “But you can’t come anyway.” Her face, when it came back into view, was full of regret. “There will be a lot of Civic Leaders at the function…”

His eyes raked over her, she looked… wild and free… and he wanted her very much.

“Jack?”

“Sorry, my mind was elsewhere,” he admitted, blinking several times in an attempt to refocus.

“I said, you can’t come. We talked about this, remember?”

He couldn’t recall this particular conversation but he was sure she was right. “Yes, of course. I can’t come.”

She tilted her head and considered him. “It doesn’t bother you?”

He shook his head, his brain had finally caught up, she was attending a costume gala for some cause or another that Prudence was supporting and many high ranking police officials would be there - not the best place to flaunt their unorthodox relationship. “No, it’s better this way. You go - dance, be captivating, but do try not to fall in love with any city guards.”

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. “It is way too late for that.”

“Hush, don’t go getting my hopes up.” He lowered his mouth to hers, stroking his tongue along her lips until she opened them to let him in. He placed his hands on her bottom, and pulled her in tight against him. Eventually, he forced himself to release her. “You probably need to finish dressing.” He looked meaningfully at the wig of long, dark cascading curls hanging from the corner of the screen.

She stared up at him regretfully. “I do. You’ll just have to hold that thought until I get back.”

He shook his head at her playfully. “Miss Fisher, would I ever tell you what you can and cannot do on an evening out?”

She gazed at him, unsure where this was going. “No.”

“Then perhaps you will extend me the same courtesy and not tell me what I can or cannot do on my night in.” He winked at her to take the sting out of his words. “A man has needs after all and by the time you get back, I’ll most likely be getting up for work.”

Her eyes widened. “Really?”

“What?” He dropped his head to nibble on her ear. “Don’t try and tell me you’ve only pleasured yourself in company.” He sucked gently on her pulse, careful not to mark it. “Sometimes it feels good to close your eyes and just get straight to the point. It’s one of the few useful things I learnt in France - that vaseline isn’t just for cuts and burns.” He laved her neck with his tongue before grabbing her earlobe gently with his teeth.

“Jack…” she murmured, loving the combination of his gentle kisses, low voice and the image he was conjuring up. He reached for one of her hands, guiding it down to his erection.

“But that’s not what I’m going to be thinking of when I’m lying in your bed alone.” He moved her hand to cup his balls and then stroke up his length. “I’m going to be thinking of you and all the things that the men who see you tonight are thinking about you. I’m going to imagine you taking my cock in your mouth and teasing me with that wicked tongue of yours.” As he said this he kissed her urgently and hard, entwining their tongues and pressing against her hand. “Phryne,” he panted when he broke the kiss, his hips still rocking against her hand. “I want to throw you on that bed, lift up that skirt and drown myself between your legs.”

She had no words, so all she managed was a strangled noise of need. She looked at him through lust-glazed eyes. “Bed, now,” she managed, trying to drag him with her. But it was like tugging on a rock. “What?” she asked, frustrated by his lack of co-operation.

“You have somewhere else to be, and I… well, I have my own plans.”

She looked at him, shocked. “You would rather I left? You’d rather be alone?”

He nodded, “That’s normally how it works.”

“But I’m… I mean I want…”

Jack walked over to the bed, picked up the yellow silk and held it out to her. “Unfortunately, I’m not joking, you really have somewhere else to be. I’m not trying to tease, well... no more than you are. Perhaps you can hold that thought till you get back? I might have recovered enough by then to do something about it.”

Phryne glared at him, damn it he was right; no matter how much she would prefer to stay with him, it wasn’t going to happen. She cursed the stupid social conventions that meant that they couldn’t attend functions as a couple. She grabbed his hand and brought it to her lips. “I really hate not being married to you sometimes.”

He raised his eyebrows - memories of a very different woman saying almost exactly the opposite threatened to flood in… but then only Phryne could come up with something that unique.

“I mean it, Jack - I don’t know how much more of this nonsense I can take. Society’s concept of respectability is starting to cause me major inconvenience. Like now, when instead of gliding around the dance floor in the arms of the most desirable man in Melbourne, I’m being forced to leave him here, alone in my bed, pleasuring himself. And I don’t even get to watch,” she said sulkily.

He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “You are adorable when you pout.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> '...level not at too high and absolute endowment and perfection, that every carnal eye shall be think you injury...'  
> 

As she moved dutifully around the dance floor, Phryne’s face was starting to ache with the effort of keeping a smile on it and the need to constantly force it into an expression of extreme interest. Though that was nothing to the ache she felt every time she thought of Jack. In her bed. Alone. She glanced up at the large clock, nearly midnight, she could probably leave… oh… now that was interesting. She watched the newcomer standing at the top of the stairs surveying the crowd, clearly searching. Rather disappointingly his eyes passed straight over her without the slightest hesitation. That smarted a bit, she was not used to being ignored. He walked down the steps moving confidently through the crowd, his direction indicating he had found what he had sought.

She was rather surprised when it became obvious it was the buffet table that had caught his undivided attention. She already had a man like that, she didn’t need another who required her to compete with finger foods and… oh… hang on. She looked harder, surely it wasn’t? A slow smile formed on her face. Fancy him turning up here, unexpected and in disguise. She considered his costume, black on black with hat and mask; he looked dark, mysterious and incredibly sexy. Douglas Fairbanks had nothing on Ja… this tall, dark, handsome stranger. She turned her back on him to focus on her current dance partner and took up the mandatory expression of interest.

Jack danced with a number of women; he wasn’t sure why but they seemed keen on the idea and he was still trying to work out how to approach her, so he had to do something. He had seen her looking straight at him when he arrived. He looked across to where she was dancing with a young man whose hands seemed to have difficulty staying in one place. It was clearly time to play the gallant hero. Jack excused himself from his current partner and sauntered across to tap the young man on the shoulder. As he took her in his arms she fluttered her eyelashes at him and said sarcastically, “My hero.”

He grinned and corrected her, “I came to rescue him not you. I could see that he was likely to earn himself at least one broken finger for his pains.” He enjoyed the slightly put out look she gave him.

“Well, he would have deserved it,” she mumbled.

“Of course, but he’s young - it takes time and experience to appreciate a woman.” He felt her relax into his arms. They danced for a while, enjoying the effortless understanding that came naturally to them as they moved around each other.

“I should let you know,” she murmured as she passed gracefully behind him, trailing her fingertips along his shoulders, “I already have a man waiting for me in my bed.”

“More fool him, when he could be here dancing with you,” he replied, extending his hand to draw her back into his arms. “Though I will happily take his place both here and in your bed.”

She chuckled and glanced at the clock. “It’s midnight. We should perhaps head somewhere more private?”

“What's the rush? I thought you wanted to dance with the most desirable man in Melbourne this evening?” he grinned roguishly.

Phryne glanced around, he was by far the most exciting option in the room and she could see appreciation for his assets on more than one face. She had a feeling they were fooling no one with the mask but perhaps people would be willing to let it go. “We can stay? You don't think it will make any trouble for you.”

He brought her hand to his lips. “Tonight, I'm willing to take the risk. Are you?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> '...for marriage is an adventure, for whosoever marries adventures, he adventures his peace, his freedom, his liberty, his body; yea, and sometimes even his soule too...'

“Jack!” She made herself comfortable in her accustomed space on his desk, her leg resting against him as she placed some paperwork in front of him. “I need you to sign this.”

He automatically picked up his fountain pen and signed in the places she indicated as she turned the pages.

“What is it?” he asked when he had finished, taking the opportunity to run his hand over her exposed leg as she helped herself to his pen and signed in nearly exactly the same places.

“An application for a marriage licence.”

He froze.

“I can’t be bothered with it anymore,” she explained, flicking through the document checking it was complete, “Sneaking around… worrying about the impact on your reputation... all this pretence is just draining and frankly annoying.”

“I can understand that but…” his hand dropped away from her leg, “this seems an extreme response.”

“Really? You prefer all this cloak and dagger stuff? Don’t you get enough of that in your day job?”

He raised his eyebrows, tilted his head and pursued his lips, she had a point. Still? “Have you thought through the logistics? Particularly in relation to your property?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got my lawyer sorting everything out.” She bent down and pecked him on the cheek. “I’ll drop this off at the Registry Office later today. Come to dinner tomorrow night?”

“Yes,” he said automatically as she bustled out of his office. He remained motionless, thinking. He had always assumed marriage wasn't an option and so had never considered it. Certainly he had never expected she would ask him. Though technically, he noted, she hadn’t actually asked - and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

* * *

It was gone ten before Jack made it to Wardlow the following night. He had almost gone straight home but, having felt strangely out of sorts all day, he had wanted to see her - to know everything between them was alright. He knocked gently on the door, surprised when she answered it herself. As always she looked stunning.

“Jack!”

She was in her dressing gown, one of those beautiful silky garments that he loved to divest her of, slowly; he hesitated. “Too late?”

“No, don’t be silly. Mr B put your dinner in the warmer. Come in.” She stepped back to let him enter then headed to the kitchen.

He hung his coat and hat in their customary places and followed her into the kitchen.

“Take a seat, I’ll bring it over,” she said as she fussed around by the oven.

A smile played across his lips at the oddity of her taking charge in the kitchen but he made sure it was gone by the time she proudly presented him with the plate. “Thank you,” he said politely, suddenly feeling uncomfortable that she was waiting on him.

She sat happily in the seat across from him. “See, it wouldn’t be that bad.”

He paused, fork en route to his mouth. “I’m sorry?”

“Being married to me,” she said, “I’m not a complete non-starter when it comes to wifely qualities.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“When you marry me I can guarantee hot food on the table when you get home from work. That’s got to score me some points. Surely?”

“It's nice, but… marriage isn’t a prerequisite to having a hot meal after work,” he pointed out, “or at least I didn’t think it was.”

“No,” she said smiling, “it’s more an added bonus because now you can look forward to it every night. Eat up,” she said, “there’s dessert too.”

It turned out there was also coffee. Which was pleasant. And paperwork for him to read. Which was less pleasant and probably the reason for the dinner invite.

“It’s from my lawyer,” she explained, “just make notes against anything you’re not happy with and I’ll get her to change it.”

Jack read through it carefully, not wanting any surprises this time. The only thing he struck out was the payment of a generous sum to him in the event that the marriage should fail, scrawling beside it that he wanted no claim on her if that should happen. He also made a pile of dots beside the section that dealt with the distribution of her estate in the event that she should pass before him.

She watched him. Waiting.

“If you die before me all your estate should go to Jane,” he said, finally.

“But what about you? I don’t want you to be homeless - at least keep Wardlow.”

“I couldn’t stay here - not without you.”

She nodded her head, it was his decision - except… “Will you stay for Jane though, if I’m gone?”

He hadn’t thought of that, but now she mentioned it he didn’t hesitate. “Of course, you’re right - I’ll stay for as long as she needs me.” He made notes against the clause and passed the document back to her.

“Are you going home tonight?”

He considered for a moment - was that an invitation or a gentle suggestion that he should leave? It was late and she was ready for bed. He went for the latter.

She pouted, “When we’re married I won’t have to ask that question and you won’t have that escape route.”

“Is that a strike for or against?” he asked as he stood.

She lay her hand on his arm to stop him. “Reconsider, and stay?”

He let her draw him up the stairs to her room. He would never have stayed if she hadn't asked but he was glad that he had misinterpreted her intentions, he was hoping that making love would put things back in balance for him.

“Do you want me to take the usual precautions?” she asked, “Or are children one of the things you want from our marriage?”

Jack stumbled, but a quick glance showed she was only teasing. “That is not funny,” he admonished her.

“A _no_ on the children, then,” she said laughing at the look on his face. “Excuse me for a moment.” She headed to the bathroom to fit her device.

Afterwards they lay together, replete - her head resting on his chest as he stroked his hand along the curve of her back. He remained awake for a long time, contemplating the ceiling he couldn’t see and wondering why he wasn’t entirely happy.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Since then this nuptial art requires such skill, to pluck so rare a good from so much ill, I think the husband that would thrive and marry, must for a better age and women tarry.'

Two days later, Jack found himself in his best blue suit, waiting outside the Victorian Registry Office with Doctor Macmillan and Mr Butler. He glanced at his watch, she was ten minutes late. His valiant attempt at not appearing nervous was unsuccessful and Mr Butler gave him a reassuring look.

The Doctor, in an attempt to break the uncomfortable silence, tried conversation. “No guests of your own?”

He shook his head. “There’s only Rosie and I didn't think inviting my ex-wife was good form.”

“Ah," she nodded, "probably best.” Small talk, she decided, was not their forte. They went back to silence.

Not long after, the Hispano came screeching to a halt in front of them. “Sorry," Phryne waved out as she threw her hat on the seat beside her and ruffled her hair back into place. "This wasn't an attempt to be fashionably late - I needed to pick something up. Jack,” she motioned for him to join her as she opened the car door, “can I have a quick word?” The Doctor and Mr Butler discreetly wandered away to give them privacy. Phryne watched him nervously as she stood beside the car in a simple pale blue blouse, white trousers and her camel driving coat.

He stopped in front of her and tilted his head, ready to deal with whatever new moral dilemma he was to be subjected to.

"I realised this morning that I may have rushed you into this and I wanted to say... we don't have to do this - nothing actually needs to change between us."

He raised his eyebrows, was she backing out? He steeled himself not to show his disappointment.

Instead, she reached into her coat pocket and produced a small box, opening it as she held it out to him. Inside two simple but weighty gold rings lay side by side. "Unless you want it to change."

He looked at the rings with interest, by its size and shape it was obvious one was for him.

“You don't have to wear it but I thought you might like to have one too."

He nodded, rather taken with the idea. He could see she had more to say so he gave her his full attention.

"Also, there's something I think I should have done earlier..." she took a deep breath. “Jack Robinson, I'd like to marry you - if you’ll have me?” she added quickly, not wanting to take his consent for granted - again.

It was, he thought, a lovely attempt to recognise that they had very different ideas about marriage. For her, this was not about making a commitment to him but a way to manipulate Society's rules to better suit how she wished to live her life. Whereas for him? Well, he had decided there was only one reason for him to get married - and it wasn't to avoid gossip, to protect her, to have children, to form a stable economic unit, not even to have a helpmate - he was going to marry her for the simple reason he loved her. It was a hedonistic luxury that made him feel decidedly modern.

"So?" she prompted.

He glanced to where their witnesses stood patiently at the top of the steps, then back at the woman awaiting his response. A slow grin formed on his face. "I guess I may as well, seems you've gone to all this effort."

She snapped the box shut. "Good!" Grabbing his hand, she dragged him up the steps. “Come on, we’ve got a wedding to get out of the way so we can start our honeymoon.”

* * *

Phryne drove them to a hotel outside Melbourne where she had booked the Honeymoon suite. She unlocked the door to their room and stood back, looking at him expectantly.

“Really?”

“Indulge me.”

“Always,” he said as he picked her up and carried her over the threshold. The suite, of course, was astonishing with champagne, flowers and assorted goodies laid out on a table by windows overlooking the intricate gardens. Jack didn't notice; he took her straight into the bedroom before letting go of her legs so she could stand in front of him. She immediately slipped off her coat, blouse and trousers so she was standing before him in ivory tap pants and camisole.

Putting her hands on either side of his face she brought his mouth to hers and kissed him roughly. “I need you, now,” she told him when she finally released him.

Jack caught his breath, his preference was to make long, slow, languid love to every inch of her body, bringing her release after release. But sometimes she wanted it hard and fast, which was a new and thrilling experience for him. As she slipped out of the last of her clothes, the hunger in her eyes told him this was one of those times. He hurriedly undid his tie as she sat on the edge of the bed. He started on his waistcoat buttons as she let herself lie back. He shucked off his braces, letting them hang, and turned his attention to his shirt buttons when she spread her legs, allowing him to see she was wet and glistening.

His hands went straight to his trouser buttons. He had managed two and his trousers were sitting well below his hips, when she sat back up, holding her arms out for him. He stepped quickly between her still open legs. She slid her hands up his bare chest, eyes locking on to his, “Look at you - all disheveled and delicious.” Moving her hands to his back she let them glide down to rest on his buttocks as she dropped her head to leave a trail of kisses from his hip to where his trousers were precariously balanced.

She raised her head to meet his eyes again as she lay back, hooking her hand into the front of his trousers to pull him down on top of her. He managed to catch most of his weight on his elbows as he caught her lips with his, kissing her hard as she moved sinously beneath him. Before long her hands were scrabbling at his jacket, trying to pull it over his shoulders. “More skin,” she demanded between kisses.

“Yes,” he replied, moving to kneel with one leg either side of her waist and shucking off all the clothes on his upper body. He breathed in deeply as she undid the rest of his trouser buttons, her hands running across the front of his boxers to find him hard and ready.

“More kisses,” she said, with a wicked grin.

He shuffled down to place one leg between hers and lowered his body down on top of her again. ‘Lots more kisses,” he agreed, putting actions to words.

Her hands entwined in his hair as she held him to her, daring him to match her ferocity as she plundered his mouth. When she allowed him to enter hers she let her teeth graze him, drawing a shuddering moan from him. She ran her hands down his back and under his trousers and boxers, pushing them down as far as she could. Getting the hint, he used one hand, then the other, to release himself, but when he tried to get up to remove them completely she held onto him. “No, that’s enough, I need you now!”

“I believe you may have mentioned that already,” he teased as he pulled away from her, determined to remove the last of his clothes.

As soon as he returned she began to rub herself against his hard thigh and he moved slightly so he could cover her breast with his hand, teasing her hard nipple with his palm in time with the movement of her hips against him. She finally broke off the kiss to throw her head back, eyes closed, making sounds of complete abandon as she tried to drag him into place between her legs. When he resisted her, she pushed him off, onto his back and straddled him. “Damn it, Jack! I told you I needed you now.”

He grinned up at her. “I love it with you’re like this,” he admitted, placing his hands on her waist and dragging her up his body.

“Then why don’t you do something about it,” she challenged, leaning down so her nipple was enticingly close to his mouth. His only response was to reach up, capturing it and sucking hard. She held his head with one hand, encouraging him to continue his ungentle ministrations. He slipped his hand between them and began to stroke her, enjoying the way she shifted in an attempt to have his fingers enter her. In a low, almost threatening voice she said his name like a warning. In response, he plunged his fingers deep inside her. He watched entranced as she fucked them with wild abandon, her hands on his shoulders, fingernails digging deep into his flesh. It was possible, he realised, that he would come just watching her.

As if she read his mind, she shook her head. “Not enough. I need more.” She shuffled back until she was directly above his cock, rubbing herself over it until he was forced to still her by placing his hands on her arse, drawing her tightly against his body.

She pouted at him and he laughed. “Just give me a second or it will all be over.”

She poked her tongue out at him. “I’m sure you can come up with some way to finish what you started.”

He reached up to pull her head down to his, kissing her with the intensity she had come to expect from him. When he released her she stayed close, watching him as she held his cock and lowered herself on him. He blinked a couple of times, doing his best to hold her gaze. She had slowed down, no longer frantic but intent on wringing every ounce of pleasure from him as she raised and lowered herself, never breaking eye contact. 

She carried on her silent, slow, steady pace until he thought he was in danger of losing all control. Then she stilled at the highest point and said, “Fuck me, Jack.”

He put his hands on her hips to both steady her and give him purchase as he began to thrust up into her, hard and fast.

“Yes,” she gasped, letting her head fall to rest in the curve of his neck, making all manner of delicious sounds as he drove himself into her. Suddenly, she ground down on him, forcing a change of pace.

“Phryne, I...” he started to warn her how close he was.

“Hush,” she said, continuing to grind slowly against him though her breathing was now short and shallow, and he knew she was close too. He bit the inside of his lip in an attempt to hold on but then she started kissing him again, tongue stroking against his, circling it, enticing him to follow her back into her mouth. When he did she sucked strongly on his tongue, so hard it almost hurt and he was helpless to stop himself from coming. To his relief though it had the same impact on her and she shuddered above and around him.

Afterwards, his attempt to cuddle her as she lay spent on top of him was foiled by mutterings of ‘too hot’ and ‘uncomfortable’ as she dragged herself sleepily to lie on the bed properly. He resisted the urge to take this as rejection, instead moving to where she lay on her stomach so he could stroke his hand down her back. She turned her head towards him, eyes half closed and a slight smile on her lips - looking hazy but content. “Love you.”

Before he could recover from his shock, she had closed her eyes. Jack lay there, his hand simply resting on her shoulder, contemplating this unexpected turn of events - she had, in her own way, just given him the commitment he had wanted. It was, he thought, pleasingly ironic that she had chosen to do this on their wedding day. He had a feeling he was grinning like a fool and was glad she was not awake to witness it.

Twenty minutes later, she woke to find him gazing at the ring on his finger, twisting it first one way and then the other. She reached out to still his hand with hers and her finger traced lightly across it. “Do you like it?”

“Yes,” he said, looking at her from under his lashes.

“It’s all nonsense, you know,” she told him, “signing a piece of paper hasn’t changed what we are to each other - how could it?”

He sighed, “I know, but do you always have to be so horribly pragmatic?” He caught her hand in his and brought it up to his lips.

She rolled her eyes, “Well someone has to be. If I’d left it to you we might still be sitting in your office staring meaningfully at each other like a couple of lovesick cows.”

“Ouch,” he chuckled softly as he kissed her hand again, “I rather liked that part of the journey.”

She pulled her hand from his but only so she could caress the side of his face. “You, Jack Robinson, are a hopeless romantic.”

He didn't deny it.

Thirty seconds later she was dragging him out of bed. “Come on, there are natural hot pools here that are supposed to be incredibly rejuvenating,” she gave him a wink, “and you’re going to need all the help you can get.”

That, he thought, went without saying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks, as always to solitary_cyclist.

**Author's Note:**

> I had actually written this fic when I realised I needed a title so I brainstormed with the crew on slack and ended up with 'Discourse on Marriage' (I actually had a longer name but inzannatea has a _thing_ about long titles - LOL). When I googled the title I found this fantastic piece of advice for men looking to get married in the 1600's. It was written by an unmarried man because apparently, a person not involved in the heinous business of marriage, is better able to highlight the pitfalls and spot the dastardly tricks of those devious women. 
> 
> This in a very quick nutshell is a summary of the main points:  
> 1\. If you choose wrong you face a life of unbounded misery  
> 2\. It's easy to make the wrong choice (but luckily this guy is going to show you how to avoid becoming a shipwreck)  
> 3\. Women will attempt to trap you with their painted beauty and pretend virtue  
> 4\. Woman was made from the rib of Adam and therefore all women should be nice to all men (presumably because they are missing a rib)  
> 5\. There are many advantages to marriage but the true intent is posterity and the avoidance of bastards.  
> 6\. You don't want an ugly wife because good looks increase affection, making it easier to have sex (to make children)  
> 7\. You don't want too good looking a wife because, as with owning a good horse, other men will be jealous of you and seek to ride off on the horse with your wife.  
> 8\. If you get the above balance wrong you will lose everything and your misery will be unbounded.  
> 9\. Once you have made your selection you must investigate the physical aspects of her family otherwise you could end up with pygmy children.  
> 10\. Really the chances of finding a half decent wife are so slim you'd be better to wait until a better class of woman becomes available. (This is in no way a reflection on the quality of material woman was produced from in the first place - obviously.)
> 
> I think it's pretty likely the author died unmarried - LOL


End file.
